


Cultural Exchange

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, Space Dorks, friendship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I saw things. Things that I will never be able to unsee."</i> In which Zoe finds out the hard way what a Scotsman wears under his kilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultural Exchange

The warehouse was dead quiet and almost dark, lit here and there by flickering patches of emergency lighting that hadn’t yet given out and by the yellowish glow of their torches. Jamie hefted his stack of boxes, adjusting his grip, and said, “what’s next?”

Zoe mentally consulted the list. “Ball-bearings. One box of five hundred. Should be up here.” She shone her torch up the next aisle. Jamie nodded and adjusted his boxes again. “Are you sure I can’t carry one of those?”

“Och, they’re barely heavy,” said Jamie as they set off down the aisle. “What does he need so many wee balls for, anyway?”

“I don’t think he needs the whole box.” Zoe counted shelving units – one, two, three, four – and halted. “This should be it. Top shelf.” Twin torch beams wavered over the top shelf, where there was a suspicious gap. “Oh, bother.”

“None left?”

“I suppose there might be some at the back,” said Zoe doubtfully. “Oh, why can’t people keep their records up to date?”

“Never mind that.” Jamie set his boxes down. “Fancy a leg up?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Why did people have to let their records fall behind _and_ build their shelving units unreasonably high? She balanced awkwardly on Jamie’s shoulders upon her knees, clutching at the shelves – which were at least sturdy – as she tried to lever herself upwards.

“See any ball bearings?” said Jamie beneath her.

“Hang on a moment.” She took a breath and pulled herself up, standing on his shoulders. She flicked her torch back on and shone it into the shadows. “There’s one box,” she said. “I’ll try to –” She grabbed for it and almost unbalanced herself.

“Careful!”

“It’s too far back. I can’t reach,” she said. “I’m coming down.” She climbed, deeply relieved, back to the ground, sliding off Jamie’s shoulders with a jolt. “There’s probably a ladder or something somewhere.”

“Was that on the plan?” said Jamie.

Zoe thought back quickly. “No, it wasn’t marked.”

“I don’t fancy trying to find them in the dark,” said Jamie. “Och, I’ll climb up there.”

“Be careful,” said Zoe as he set his foot on one of the lower shelves. “You’ll bring the whole thing down on top of us.”

“It seems sturdy enough,” said Jamie as he clambered upwards, shifting boxes out of the way to make room for his hands and feet. When he reached the top, he took his torch out of his mouth and hung there one-handed. “I see it. The wee white one?”

“It’s the box that says ball-bearings,” said Zoe dryly.

“I’ll get it.” He groped for the box, setting down his torch and clinging onto the support to reach in further.

Zoe was peering up at him anxiously, worried that he might fall – or worse, fall on top of her – when abruptly she let out a yelp of indignation. She swung around, desperate to be looking anywhere _but_ up at Jamie.

“Zoe?” She heard the shelves creak as he shifted about. “Everywhere alright?”

She could feel her face warming, blood rushing to her cheeks. “You’re not wearing underwear!

“Aye, so?” said Jamie, bemused.

“So why aren’t you wearing underwear?” Zoe hissed.

“Why’re _you_ looking up me kilt?” he retorted.

“I wasn’t looking!” Zoe turned, hesitantly, to face him, and found him looking down at her, hanging from the shelves with a one-handed grip. “I was just looking up at you, and then you leaned forwards, and then – _things_ were in my eye line. I couldn’t help looking.”

“Sorry,” said Jamie, sincerely sheepish. “I didnae think you were looking.”

“Why aren’t you _wearing_ anything under there?”

Jamie shrugged awkwardly. “That’s how you wear a kilt. It’s traditional.”

“ _Why’s_ it traditional?”

Jamie shrugged again. “Why’s anything traditional?” He vanished back into the shadows of the shelving unit. Zoe carefully averted her eyes.

“You mean where you come from, everyone just wears kilts with nothing underneath?”

“Aye,” he said. “Well, the men.”

“That’s,” said Zoe, a little flabbergasted by the notion. “That’s downright uncivilised.”

“Och, don’t you start,” said Jamie, rooting about for the ball-bearings. “I get enough of that from the Doctor. ‘C’mere and let me educate you, you wee unwashed savage’.”

“That’s not what I said,” said Zoe. Well, it was a bit, but it wasn’t what she meant. She hated the idea of Jamie thinking she saw him like that. She wished she knew how to articulate her thoughts properly. “I don’t think of you like that,” she said firmly.

“Thanks,” he said in a dry tone that somehow conveyed that honestly, he didn’t really care what she thought. Which made sense. Having clung to his odd way of dressing as long as he had, he couldn’t care all that much what other people made of it. “Got it!” He tossed the box down to her and hopped back down to ground level, grinning to himself. His smile faded when he saw that she was still troubled. “You’re no’ offended, are you?”

“Not offended,” said Zoe. “Just startled. That’s all.”

Jamie picked up the other boxes and made her set the ball-bearings atop the stack. “That’s alright, then. Is that everything?”

“I think so, unless he’s thought of something else,” said Zoe. They turned about face and set off for the door. “Really, though,” she said. “You mean to tell me, the whole time I’ve known you – you’ve been naked under that thing?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds a touch odd,” Jamie mused.

“Just a touch,” said Zoe.

“Why d’you care so much, anyway?” said Jamie. “I dinnae see how it’s any of your business whether or not I wear underthings.”

“I _care_ when you’re flashing me.”

“I wasnae flashing!” Jamie protested. “You were peeking.”

“I wasn’t peeking! I was just keeping an eye on you, because I was worried you were going to fall, and then you leaned forward, and I – I saw things. Things that I will never be able to unsee,” she added darkly.

“I’m sure it wasnae _that_ bad,” said Jamie.

“It was _horrible_ ,” Zoe wailed. He elbowed her, almost dropping his boxes in the process. “Anyway, it doesn’t look comfortable.”

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” said Jamie. “Mibbe I prefer a breeze down there.”

“A _breeze_?”

“I said mibbe!” They reached the door of the warehouse. Jamie shouldered it open and shambled out into the corridor beyond. “If it bothers you that much, then – och, here’s himself.”

Zoe stepped out of the warehouse behind him. He’d almost walked straight into the Doctor, who was looking at them in bemusement. “What’s all this bickering about? You’re not squabbling, are you?”

Jamie and Zoe exchanged a glance. “Cultural exchange,” Zoe supplied.

“Excuse me?” said the Doctor.

“Jamie was just educating me about the traditional way of wearing a kilt.”

The Doctor blinked owlishly in confusion.

“She got a bit of an eyeful,” Jamie explained.

“Oh, my word,” said the Doctor. “Zoe, my dear, are you alright?” He reached out a hand to steady her, as if she might be about to swoon.

“Traumatised,” said Zoe. “I may never recover.”

“Very funny,” said Jamie. He hefted his boxes, holding them out to the Doctor. “Here’s your parts.”

“Oh yes, I was looking for you.” The Doctor began patting himself down, searching his boxes till he found a grubby scrap of paper. He straightened it out and held it up to the light of Zoe’s torch. “Did I forget to ask for springs? I have a dreadful feeling I forgot.”

Zoe mentally went over the list. Jamie tilted his head to read the labels on his boxes. “No, you didn’t ask for springs,” said Zoe. “We’ll just nip back and get them, shall we?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The Doctor rubbed his hands together anxiously, as if he was truly sorry for the inconvenience.

Jamie rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Here,” he said, dumping his boxes into the Doctor’s arms.

“Thank you,” said the Doctor brightly. He began looking over the labels. “Yes, this will all be – very helpful,” he said, his voice drifting the way it did when he was lost in thought.

Jamie took the crumpled second list from between his unresisting fingers. “We’ll get right on this, shall we?”

“Yes, you do that,” said the Doctor, pottering away with his ball-bearings and wires and transistors.

“Springs?” said Zoe. Jamie was frowning at the list.

“Aye, and,” he mouthed out the next word. “Cap-something. What’s that say?”

“Capacitors,” said Zoe. “I’ll take the list, shall I?”

“We might be in here a while,” said Jamie. “Mibbe we should find those ladders.”

“That’s probably best,” Zoe agreed.


End file.
